Ryuzhen POV
I woke up to the gentle warmth of sunlight slipping through the curtains, casting golden hues across my room. I blinked slowly, adjusting to the light, then turned to check my alarm clock. 7:00 AM. Still early.
Today was the day I was flying to Paris.
I sat up and stretched, rolling my neck to shake off the stiffness from sleep. The familiar ache in my muscles reminded me that it was time for my usual morning routine. Days off from the hospital were rare, but when I had them, I followed a strict schedule: protein shake, full-body workout, then a review of research papers or experimental results. But today was special. I wasn't just leaving Japan I was heading back to France, to the very hospital I owned, to finalize something that could change the future of medicine.
As I made my way to the kitchen, the rich aroma of Japanese cuisine greeted me. Unsurprising. My mother was already there, as always, gracefully flipping tamagoyaki on the pan with the same practiced ease she used every morning. She was humming a soft tune in Japanese, something nostalgic and warm. Growing up here in Japan, I had gotten used to this peaceful routine calm mornings, traditional meals, and the soft quiet of our home. But peace never lasted long in my life.
I opened the fridge and grabbed the ingredients for my protein shake almond milk, whey, banana, peanut butter, and a scoop of collagen powder. Blending it all together with precision, I felt the excitement buzzing in my veins. Today wasn't just any trip. The hospital in France the one I built from the ground up using my patents and breakthroughs was nearing a massive milestone. The research project I initiated, centered around synthetic neural regeneration and the treatment of Neural Cataclysm Syndrome, was finally showing promising results. My presence was required to oversee the trial phase and prepare for the upcoming medical conference in Geneva.
After finishing the shake, I turned to my mother. "I'll be at the gym, Mom," I said.
She gave me a knowing look, her eyes filled with pride. "Don't forget to eat after. You always skip meals when you're too focused."
I smiled faintly. "I won't. I promise."
I walked through the hallway, passing framed awards, certificates, and even news clippings about me Dr. Ryuzhen Liuzhaki, Japan's youngest neurosurgeon, biomedical engineer, and now one of the world's most renowned minds in regenerative medicine. And the youngest ceo. By 21, I had published dozens of peer-reviewed papers. By 23, I developed the WISENet a neural mapping AI interface that could predict degenerative brain diseases before symptoms occurred. And now at 27, I owned many hospitals around the world, i was the owner and director of Clinique de Renaissance, a cutting-edge medical facility in Paris specializing in experimental neural therapies.
I entered my personal gym, a minimalist, pristine space equipped with the latest equipment free weights, resistance machines, a treadmill, rowing machine, and a smart mirror for guided routines. The floor was padded and spotless, the air fresh and cool.
Setting my protein shake down, I pulled off my t-shirt, revealing the toned definition of someone who treated the body with the same level of discipline as the mind. Working out wasn't just about aesthetics it was about performance, endurance, and mental clarity. If I was to change the world, I needed to be in top condition.
I started with a dynamic warm-up jumping jacks, lunges, arm swings before diving into my full-body circuit. Deadlifts, push-ups, rows, squats, planks, and pull-ups. I moved like a machine, every motion calculated and efficient. With each rep, I could feel the adrenaline surge and the blood rushing through my veins. A symphony of exertion, precision, and control.
Halfway through, I paused and took a sip of my protein shake, wiping the sweat from my forehead. My mind was already in Paris, thinking of the surgical team, the upcoming tests, the prototype neural implants waiting for clinical trials. I thought of the patients those with ALS, spinal injuries, or degenerative cognitive diseases whose lives could be changed by what we were about to complete.
I was not just a doctor anymore. I was a symbol of hope. A disruptor in a system that had grown stagnant. A visionary who refused to accept that "incurable" was the end of the line.
After finishing my workout, I grabbed the towel hanging around my neck, wiped the sweat off my face, and slipped my shirt back on. My muscles still felt tight from the last set, but I liked the burn—it reminded me I was pushing myself. I walked out of the home gym and straight to the kitchen, already craving breakfast.
The moment I stepped inside, I found them gathered around the table. Plates of rice, miso soup, grilled fish, and tamagoyaki were neatly arranged. The smell instantly hit me, and my stomach growled.
Arika, my little sister, looked up first. She smirked the second she saw me. "Oh look, it's Mr. Perfect. Did the weights beg for mercy again?"
I rolled my eyes, pulling out a chair. "Good morning to you too, Arika. You should be thankful I stay this strong. Otherwise, who's going to scare off the boys who try to flirt with you?"
She snorted. "Please. The only person scared of you is probably your reflection when you start flexing in front of the mirror. Honestly, Ryu, you spend more time with your dumbbells than with actual humans."
I raised a brow as I sat down. "At least dumbbells don't talk back."
That earned a laugh from Mom, who was sipping her tea. She gave me a sly smile. "Ryu, don't be too hard on your sister. She has a point—you do look like you spend hours posing in the mirror. Are you sure you're going to Paris for work and not to model?"
"Mom," I groaned, "not you too. I'm going for medical work, you know that."
She hid her smile behind her cup. "Yes, yes, I know. But still, a mother is allowed to tease her son. Especially one who insists on acting so serious all the time."
I tried to ignore her, focusing on the fish in front of me. But before I could take a bite, the kitchen door opened, and Rinlei, my older sister, came strolling in. She stretched lazily, her hair still a little messy from just waking up. The second her eyes landed on me, her lips curved into a smirk I knew all too well.
"Well, if it isn't the genius himself," Rinlei said dramatically, taking her seat. "The pride of the family. The boy who never makes mistakes. Off to Paris to save the world again, huh?"
I sighed. "Good morning to you too, Rinlei."
She leaned her chin on her hand, eyes glinting with mischief. "Tell me, little brother, do the patients faint because of their illness… or because you walk into the room?"
Arika burst out laughing. "That's actually a good question. He probably carries a mirror just to check his hair before treating them."
"Very funny," I muttered, stabbing a piece of tamagoyaki with my chopsticks.
Mom looked at me warmly but couldn't resist adding her own jab. "You do get a lot of attention, Ryu. Every time the news talks about your hospital in France, they show your picture too. You're practically a celebrity doctor now."
I groaned, leaning back in my chair. "Unbelievable. I came here for breakfast, not a roast session."
"Oh, don't act like you hate it," Rinlei said, smirking. "Deep down, I bet you enjoy it. Don't think I didn't see you practicing your 'serious doctor face' in front of the mirror when you were younger."
"Wait, what?" Arika gasped, laughing harder. "Ryu actually practiced his face? Like—" she puffed out her cheeks and narrowed her eyes, imitating me horribly—"'Hmm yes, I'm Dr. Ryuzhen, the genius!'"
Even Mom chuckled at that. "That's actually not a bad impression."
I dropped my chopsticks and stared at them. "You people are unbelievable. I'm surrounded by traitors."
Arika leaned across the table with a mischievous grin. "Relax, big brother. You know we love you. We just don't want you leaving for Paris thinking you're some untouchable god. You're still the same boy who cried when he lost his toy robot."
"Arika!" I shot her a glare. "That was years ago! Are you really bringing that up now?"
"Of course," Rinlei said with a grin, sipping her tea. "That's what sisters are for."
I sighed, shaking my head, though I couldn't hide the smile tugging at my lips. As much as they annoyed me, I knew I'd miss this constant teasing once I left.
"Fine," I said, lifting my hands in mock defeat. "Go ahead, laugh all you want. But when I'm gone, you'll all miss me. Don't come crying to me when breakfast gets boring without me around."
"Oh, we'll survive," Rinlei teased. "Just don't come back with a French wife and forget about us."
Arika chimed in, "Yeah! And if you do get a girlfriend, we have to approve first. No exceptions."
Mom just smiled, watching us. "You see, Ryu? That's their way of saying they love you."
I smirked, picking up my chopsticks again. "Yeah, sure. Love with a side of humiliation."
The kitchen filled with laughter, the usual morning chaos that made our house feel like home.
After we finished breakfast, I stood up, excused myself, and went back to my room. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across my bed. On top of it sat my single piece of luggage—just one. I didn't pack much; only the essentials, the things I truly needed. My medical notes, my laptop full of research, a few clothes, and a small framed photo of my family that I always carried with me. Everything else could stay behind, because what mattered most was already in my heart.
I took a deep breath as I zipped it closed. The sound echoed in the quiet of my room, almost symbolic, like closing a chapter of my life. Carrying it out into the hall, I was met with my mother, Rinlei, and Arika waiting for me. They all insisted on taking me to the airport themselves, and though part of me wanted to tell them not to worry, I knew how much this meant to them. So I nodded, smiled faintly, and allowed them to accompany me.
The ride to the airport was filled with small conversations, laughter, and the occasional teasing. Arika kept saying, "Don't forget to bring me souvenirs from Paris, okay? Something expensive!" Rinlei smirked and added, "And don't flirt too much with French nurses, little brother. Remember, I'll know if you do." Mom, though quiet, simply held my hand from time to time, as if she was trying to memorize the warmth before I left again.
When we arrived at the airport, the air was thick with both excitement and melancholy. I unloaded my bag and stood with them for a moment. The giant glass windows of the terminal reflected their faces—my family, my anchor, my reason for working so hard.
"Well," I said softly, forcing a smile, "this is it. Time for me to go."
Mom pulled me into a tight hug. "Stay safe, Ryu. Remember, no matter how far you go, this will always be your home."
"I know, Mom," I whispered, my throat tightening.
Rinlei patted my shoulder. "Don't overwork yourself, genius. Even the smartest brain needs rest."
Arika, trying to keep the mood light, gave me a cheeky grin. "Don't cry too much on the plane, big brother. Remember, you're supposed to be cool and professional."
I chuckled, hugging them all one last time before walking towards the terminal. I waved until I could no longer see them, and with a heavy heart, I entered.
Inside, the process was smooth. No lines, no waiting—I had my own private business jet waiting for me. One of the perks of being who I was. I boarded the sleek white plane, stepping inside its luxurious interior, but despite the soft leather seats and polished tables, it felt strangely empty without my family.
Sinking into my seat by the window, I gazed outside at the runway. The sky was clear, painted in hues of blue and white, but for some reason, an unexplainable weight settled on my chest. Something didn't feel right.
"Let's go," I told my pilot firmly.
"Yes, Boss," he replied, starting the engine. Soon enough, we were lifting off the ground, the world below growing smaller, the horizon stretching endlessly.
But as we ascended higher into the clouds, a strange unease stirred inside me. My instincts—sharp from years of medical practice and intuition—told me something was wrong. The air felt heavier, the plane seemed to rattle more than usual, and the steady hum of the engine carried a subtle irregularity.
I stood up immediately, the unease growing stronger. Making my way to the cockpit, I opened the door and sat beside the pilot.
"What's going on?" I asked sharply, eyes scanning the controls.
The pilot's face was pale, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the wheel. "Boss… it's not me. We're losing control. It feels like… like something is pulling us down. Like an invisible force is dragging the plane."
My chest tightened. "Did you check everything before takeoff? Every detail? Every system?"
"Yes, Boss!" he said desperately. "I checked it twice, maybe three times. Everything was in perfect condition. No damage, no malfunction. I swear to you."
I stared at the instruments. He was right—everything looked normal. No alarms, no failures. And yet, the plane was shaking violently, the altitude dropping by the second.
Suddenly, the nose of the plane dipped. The cabin lights flickered. A loud metallic groan reverberated through the walls as if the aircraft itself was crying out in pain.
"Pull it up!" I shouted, gripping the dashboard.
"I'm trying!" the pilot yelled, beads of sweat rolling down his temple. "It's like something's… pulling us from the sky!"
Then it happened. Within seconds, the plane plummeted. Flames burst from one of the engines, the fire spreading fast, licking at the wings as the alarms began to scream. The cabin was engulfed in chaos the sound of tearing metal, the smell of burning fuel, the force of gravity pulling me violently into my seat.
My breath caught in my throat. My vision blurred. The world spun as the fire intensified, and I felt my consciousness slipping away.
The last thing I remembered was the unbearable heat, the thunderous roar of the crash, and then nothing. Darkness consumed me as my lungs gave out, leaving me breathless in the fiery descent.